A/N: This is the first Brooklyn Nine-Nine fic I've written. It'll probably be a multi-chapter. I have a tentative outline rolling around in my head. I write a lot for another fandom, but I'm not sure how this would be received, hence the new account. I really like the Jake and Amy pairing, but I've been hesitant to write for them, because I don't feel like I can write clever snappy dialogue. We'll see. Please feel free to leave comments or reviews about anything you read here. I find feedback to be really encouraging and helpful.
Amy had walked this route many times. Too many times actually, if you wanted to argue. She was probably pushing her luck, but she couldn't stop. Each morning, before work, she'd go to the gym, grab a coffee, and then find herself circling back around this way, trying her best to look nonchalant. She wasn't very good at it. There was a reason she was never chosen for undercover field duty.
So, it would be wise if she stopped strolling through this particular part of town, a seedy little neighborhood with far too many dark alleys. But damn it, she needed to see Jake, to talk to him, and the only way she could do that was to 'accidentally' bump into him on the street. Old colleagues could chat, right? It was definitely better than kicking down the door of the disgusting little apartment she knew he was staying in, the one bedroom shoe box just over the most disgusting deli she'd ever been to in her life.
So this is what she did every morning, clutching her steaming cup of joe as she marched between looming brick edifices, shifty eyed youths perched on their stoops. She kept her own eyes peeled, sweeping the sidewalk surreptitiously, her ears pricked, listening for the obnoxious laugh of her fellow detective.
She could pretend she was doing a little detective work of her own, lie to herself. She knew he came this way sometimes. Back when she'd first decided that they needed to talk, she'd staked out the place, getting here heinously early, hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, dark baseball cap tilted low over her eyes. She'd even worn her most bland ensemble. Black cargo pants, and a ratty hoodie, zipped up all the way to her chin. It was her idea of playing it low-key. She didn't realize there was a bodega owner down the street who was now fairly certain that a pretty dark haired young woman was planning some sort of terroristic event. And even though that particular citizen was onto her, Jake appeared not to take notice, and she'd chickened out completely, high tailing it back to her comfortable little apartment in record time.
Since then she'd gone back, several times, seen him briefly passing through, still hiding beneath her baseball cap and dark tinted sunglasses. Each morning she started out confidently, striding out her front door, the wind of righteous indignation in her sails, only find herself adrift in the dead air of inaction once she was actually within spitting distance of her target. Why had he done this to her? It really wasn't fair, and she wanted so badly to give him a piece of her mind. She'd never had a problem in the past, reaming him for being arrogant or impulsive. So why was it so hard this time?
Maybe because that's not what she wanted to do, not really. That's not to say there wasn't a part of her that wanted to slug him, perhaps knock him flat down on the ground, pin his arm behind his back until he yelled 'uncle.' Yes, she wanted to do all of that. He had the worst timing, and she even believed it was cowardly, the way he'd sprung his feelings, romantic stylez (who even said stuff like that?) on her at a moment when he wouldn't have to face the consequences. It was so unfair, and so completely Jake-like that it still made her smile sometimes when she thought about it.
And that was the crux of the problem. Somehow she could be angry with him, annoyed by the things he did, riled up when he picked on her, and yet none of it really mattered. She'd never noticed it before his sudden absence, but he was the only person who consistently brightened her day. The station had become noticeably duller since he'd been undercover, and that was saying something, since the place usually seemed to be populated by escapees from a mental institution. Sure, it was still crazy and interesting, but it wasn't the same. She didn't smile nearly has much.
She sighed, swishing around the dregs of her coffee, deciding to toss the thing in the nearest trash can. She couldn't chicken out today, things had changed, even more than when he confessed. She had to let him know that he was slowly but surely ruining her life.
Her life, which by the way, for all intents and purposes seemed to be going better than it ever had before. She was proving herself to be a more than competent detective, her dreams of making Captain and getting her own precinct had never seemed more tangible. Her current shenanigans, ignoring Captain's orders and attempting to contact Jake, the only thing threatening to derail her carefully mapped out career path. She had friends, for the first time letting down her guard enough to find a group of confident and loyal women who she could relate to. Those new relationships felt so very fragile, but she couldn't muster the energy to give them the energy they deserved, and admittedly, they were waning slightly.
And then there was Teddy. Hot, funny, sweet, successful Teddy. He filled every requirement on her ideal boyfriend checklist, exceeding expectations in many categories. He was a catch, to be sure. And yet, it wasn't going well.
At first she'd just been so preoccupied with her thoughts, worrying that Jake had gotten himself into something far more serious than he was ready for. An undercover operation with a known drug family, suspected of several murders in the past decade should have a instilled a sense of sobriety in him, but he'd still been his overly ebullient self, joking around at the most inappropriate times. She was genuinely worried for him, as a friend of course. So, it shouldn't have seemed quite so strange when she'd begged of Teddy's Friday night plans… then his Saturday night ones as well.
And when she did spend time with him, she tried to just be in the moment, to enjoy this perfect relationship she was having. But she was Amy Santiago, and pushing her worries to the back of her mind, ignoring the things she couldn't change, well, that just wasn't her. She liked to mull things over, possibly think herself into a neurotic tizzy, play six hundred different scenarios in her head, one after another, until she could see every little thing that could possibly go wrong, and then take steps to prevent those things from happening. It had served her well in the past.
But she'd never applied this particular penchant for overthinking to someone else's life though, and when her mind began to wander toward Jake, manufacturing images of him being dumped in the east river, his fingers cut off to make identification more difficult, her anxiety became almost too much. Everything was too far out of her grasp, so completely beyond her control.
She couldn't help it if Teddy was the only person she could vent to, the only person who knew truth behind Jake's absence from the nine-nine. She couldn't talk to the few people at the nine-nine who knew, strict orders to keep everything under wraps kept her silently stewing while at work. But it was different, sitting on her couch, trying to watch tv with Teddy. She was too distracted, it shouldn't have surprised her when he tried to help.
"Now, don't get mad when I say this, but-"
She'd cut him off. "No one ever says that when they're about to say something good."
He'd given her a look, tilting his head slightly as he looked at her in feigned confusion, a look that had so frequently in the past engendered a calm aura around her. "Well, it isn't good, but it isn't bad either. Maybe, and I emphasis that word, maybe, you're jealous of the attention and accolades Jake is going to get if this assignment goes well." He'd paused to give her a reassuring squeeze. "We all know how competitive you two can get."
His words had retained a reassuring tone the entire time, but she'd looked at him like he had horns growing out of his head when he suggested as much. "It's never crossed my mind to be jealous." She frowned, fighting petulant tone in her voice. "I'm worried, damn it, and everyone else should be too. Jake flies by the seat of his pants too often, and it's probably going to get him killed."
Her nostrils had flared as the words poured out, an angry flush creeping up her neck. She'd been angry, passionate in a way that he'd never really seen before, and maybe after that he didn't ask her what was wrong so often, didn't inquire as to the cause of the ever present tiny wrinkle on her forehead, the downward turn of her mouth. He didn't call as often, and certainly didn't argue with her when she broke plans. They hadn't broken up, but Amy felt like their relationship was definitely on the skids, and it was all Jake's fault.
She glanced at her watch, disappointment coursing through her as the minute hand crept ever closer to twelve. It didn't look as though she would get the chance to test her resolve today. He hadn't appeared yet, and she was just about to turn to leave when she heard it, that obnoxious laugh her ears had been so primed for, across the street, two o'clock. He was standing there, hands tucked into his jeans, shoulders hunched against the brisk morning breeze, sleep still clinging to him like mold. He'd never been a morning person.
There was someone walking alongside him, someone she didn't recognize from the collection of mug shots she'd come to associate with Jake's current pals. The two turned to enter the coffee shop across the street, and before she knew it, she was gliding across the asphalt, jaywalking determinedly toward her destination. There would be no turning back today.